Hidden in the Red Mark
Loy’s steps slowed at the end of the hall, the hideous white lights of the sitting room glaring ahead. She hated everything about it. The only time it was ever used was for guests, the space where it was most obvious her Mother wished they were wealthier. Nothing was ever moved from the spots Mother chose for them. But no matter the arrangement, the garish white and ice blue furniture was obviously too big and shiny for the humble house. The grey fur carpet stopped a foot short of the walls so that the family could walk along the outer edges, avoiding the cost of getting it cleaned. Loy tried to ignore it, but it was central to the house, and she had to look at it if she was going anywhere besides her bedroom.
